When Ma asked us where rice came from, Little Kid said, “from the pot”, and I wasn’t much better. We decided to visit the country’s oldest rice mill, in New Iberia, Louisiana. We got to see all the machines that process and package rice up close, but they weren’t running when we were there. At that mill, they let nothing go to waste. They sell hulls for animal bedding, and the bran to feed animals. Afterwards we got a taste of rice. It was good, but not as good as the ice cream factory samples.